MOVIE REVIEW: ‘Marwen’ welcomes us to the dollhouse

By Ed Symkus, Daily News Correspondent

Thursday

Dec 20, 2018 at 3:38 PMDec 20, 2018 at 3:38 PM

Fans of high-concept, visually stunning movies with an often-confounded protagonist at its center are most likely fans of Robert Zemeckis. His directing résumé includes “Forrest Gump,” “Who Framed Roger Rabbit,” and all three entries in the “Back to the Future” series.

Now he’s taken on – with co-writer Caroline Thompson (“Edward Scissorhands,” “Corpse Bride”) – a dramatic adaptation of the peculiar, compelling, moving 2010 documentary “Marwencol,” about an artist whose life is dramatically altered after being the victim in a brutal hate crime, but whose imagination is eventually unleashed.

He’s Mark Hogancamp (Steve Carell) or, as initially seen in the film’s fantastical opening sequence, U.S. Army Air Corps Capt. Hoagie Hogancamp, in the midst of a dogfight over the skies of Belgium in World War II, being shot down, then kicked and pummeled by a quintet of vicious Nazis who are, in turn, mowed down by a group of beautiful machine gun-toting women.

But, hold on ... this is all live-action, but that’s not quite Steve Carell, nor are the Nazis or the women quite human. They’re all life-size dolls with incredibly realistic features. And they’re moving like humans. It’s not till the 10-minute mark that Zemeckis and his film take a step back to reveal at least part of what’s going on. The click of a camera and the brief freeze of an image shows Hogancamp, down on the ground, behind a camera, shooting a photo of “him” and the Nazis and the rescuer women. The WWII events were all going on in his head as he was taking the staged photo.

“Welcome to Marwen” is a film that screams out for explanations, and they are forthcoming, but there’s a lot of setting up to do, a lot of characters – some real, some dolls, some imagined – to meet. Mark lives alone in a small suburban New York house. He was attacked and almost died in a gang assault by a quintet of drunks who didn’t like him because he was “different.” But his loss of memory and of drawing talent have morphed into his unique approach to an art installation through photography. The five men who kicked and pummeled him in a New York bar are now, in his mind and photographs, the five Nazis in WWII Belgium. His rescuers are five women that he knows in real life.

Mark deals with his situation by purchasing dolls at a local hobby shop, customizing their faces to make them look like himself as well as people he knows, then making them part of the population of the fictional Belgian town of Marwen, which he has constructed in hobby shop-assisted detail in his yard, and which he constantly photographs, while his active imagination brings the stories alive in his head. The treat of watching the film is that viewers get to see what he sees.

When, in real life, a new neighbor moves in, and she’s the gorgeous, friendly, red-headed Nicol (Leslie Mann), introverted Mark not only falls for her, he buys a red-headed doll, alters its face, names it Nicol, and soon she’s in his photos and in the imagined story.

Mark is not crazy, he’s just damaged. He needs to keep Post-It Notes around the house to remind himself to take pills or turn down the heat, but he’s perfectly capable of meeting people, having discussions, and holding down a restaurant job. But fantasy and reality keep flowing in and out of each other in his mind – which means those Nazis can show up at any time – and with an impending sentencing date for his attackers, he’s an emotional wreck, and Carell’s wonderful performance has him ranging from hopeful to shattered. A real plus here is that Zemeckis also plays with our imaginations, and we never know when an edit is going to jump from being with real people to being surrounded by big, talking, moving, unsettlingly lifelike dolls.

The film is violent and funny and disturbing and life-affirming and full of heart. And it’s a true original. Well, OK, it’s really an adaptation of a documentary. If you haven’t seen “Marwencol,” get it at your library, either before or after seeing “Welcome to Marwen.” It doesn’t matter. Both are great.